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Full text of "Rocky Mountain song book"

BANCROFT 

LIBRARY 



THE LIBRARY 

OF 

THE UNIVERSITY 
OF CALIFORNIA 



t. 




PUBLISHED FOR THE USE OF THE 

FREMONT FLYING ARTILLERY, 

OF PROVIDENCE. 



PROVIDENCE: 
X>TJ ID -A. IK <Sz O O - 

1856. 




BULLY BROOK'S. 

Am." Blue Tail Fly. 

There's many a blustering, swaggering knave, 

To Congress sent, the South to save, 

But the blackest name, upon the books, 

Is that of bully Preston Brooks, 
Chorus. Then Bully brag on, we don't care, 
Then Bully brag on, we don't care, 
Then Bully brag on, we don't care, 
You're sure to run away. 

Oh ! should you go at any time, 

To South Carolina's sultry clime, 

Be careful of her shades and nooks, 

For 'tis the home of Bully Brooks. (Chorus.) 

For Bully lies in wait, you know, 
And in the back he deals his blow ; 
He takes the time, when no one looks, 
A rare assassin, Bully Brooks. (Chorus.) 

He took poor Sumner unprepared, 
The only way in which he dared ; 
But Burlingaine his mutton cooks, 
And a feather white, wears Bully Brooks. (Chorus.) 

Said he "I've often heard them* tell, 

That Anson always rings the bell; 

And I prefer policemen's hooks, 

To rifle balls," says Bully Brooks. (Chorus.) 

There's Toombs, has promised, that he will 

Call his roll of Slaves on Bunker Hill ; 

But Burlingarne, at Niagara's fall, 

Your name without response did call. (Chorus.) ^ q 

Your chivalry can run no risk, 

It stands upon a trifle ; 
You'll strike a man behind his desk, 
But notbehind his rifle. (Chorus.) 



Am. "Blair and 1 called on our Van." 
Oh ! Fillmore, what a blunder, 
To say that they will sunder 
The Union when Ave're under 

The gallant, young Fremont. 
Chorus. Though bound to beat Buchanan, blue, 
With Douglass, and his ruffiian crew, 
We're bound to save the Union, too, 
With the gallant, young Fremont. 
Should it be undertaken, 
They'll find they have mistaken, 
The customer they are waking, 

In the gallant, young Fremont. 
Chorus. Though bound, &c. 
We know that they will bluster, 
And get all in a fluster, 
But that will not pass muster, 

With the gallant, young Fremont. 
Chorus. Though bound, &c. 
Disunion, they'll be crying, 
But Southern Nullifying, 
Is game not worth the trying, 

On the gallant young Fremont. 
Chorus. Though bound, &c. 
At their first insurrection, 
They'll find for their inspection, 
A Jackson resurre'ction 

In the gllant, young Fremont. 
Chorus. Though bound, &c. 
They call us Union haters, 
Do these same strife creators, 
We'll undeceive the traitors 

With the gallant, young Fremont. 
Chorus. Though bound, &c. 
We're firm in resolution, 
Against all dissolution, 
We're for the Constitution 

And the gallant, young Fremont. 
Chorus. Though bound, &c. 
This land, our sires did gain it, 
With Freemen's blood did stain it, 
And freemen shall maintain it, 

With the gallant, young Fremont. 
Chorus. Though bound, &c. 



THE CONTRAST. 

Am. "A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea." 

OH ! a keen eye, and a steady hand, 

And a heart for the People's woe, 
A will to give the stern command, 

And a soul that fears no woe ! 

Chorus: 

A soul that fears no foe, my boys ! 

A soul that fears no foe, 
A will to give the right command, 

And a soul that fears no foe ! 

For these the land is bleeding now, 

For these do Freemen pray, 
And these upon his face and brow, 

Our leader bears to-day ! 

Chorus: 
Our leader bears to-day, my boys, &c. 

But the white cravat, and the glassy eye, 

And the face whose lines recall 
The party craft of time gone by 

Oh ! turn them to the wall ! 

Chorus : 
Oh, turn them to the wall, my boys, &c. 

Oh ! a keen eye, and a steady hand, 

And a heart for the People's woe, 
A will to give the stern command, 

And a soul that fears no foe ! 

Chorus : 

A soul that fears no foe, 

A soul that fears no foe, 
An eye, and a hand, and a heart, and a will. 

And a soul that fears no foe ! 



A CANDIDATE FOR AUCTION. 

Am " Benny Havens, 0!" 

Our candidate's for auction. 

We'll sell him rarely low 
He's just come from the " holy See," 

To be made a " holy show ;" 
So now's your time to buy us, 

Let each his offer call 
We'll sell him cheap, for ready cash, 

"Dark-lantern," "grip/' and all. 

Who bids for MILLARD FILLMORE, 
Th' " Ex-press " is bound to go ; 

He's just come back from the Holy See> 
To be made " a holy shovi." 

By accident exalted 

To the Presidential chair, 
He went abroad and blew his horn 

With a braggart flunkey's air ; 
He traversed the Campagna, 

And kissed the Pope's big toe, 
But he's not the man for our Campaign, 

And so we'll sell him low. 

Who bids for MILLARD FILLMORE, 
Th' Ex-press man, old and slow, 

Who's just returned from the Holy See 
To be made " a holy show." 

A mansion on the Thames had he, 

A castle on the Maine ; 
He lived six weeks upon the Spree, 

For ten he was " on- Seine." 
He had a sweet and fair retreat 

Where the Rhine's dark waters flow ; 
He also had a well-kept seat 

Upon the quiet Po. * 

So who will bid for FILLMORE, 
Fresh from the Spree and Po ? 

We coaxed him back from the Holy See 
To be made " a holy show !" 



Am. "Here's to you, Harry Clay!" 

Why, what a host of candidates 

Did start to try their luck, 
To see who'd be next President ; 
There's Douglass, Pierce and Buck. 
Chorus. Here's to you, John Fremont 
Here's to you, my noble soul, 
Here's to you, with all my heart, 
And you shall be the people's choice. 
And that before we part 
Here's to you, John Fremont ! 

And the first upon the list 

Was the giant Douglas Steve ; 
His claims were canvassed by his friends, 

And he was asked to leave. 
Chorus, &c. 

The next was General Cass, 

Once our Minister to France, 
He'd only do to Parlez vous 

He had'nt got a chance. 

Chorus, &c. 

How happy Franklin Pierce must be, 

Since he's turned out so well, 
For he can leave off war, and soon 

In peace and Concord dwell. 
Chorus, &c. 

So they trotted out at last, 

That Federalist, Buchanan, 
And then they made a platform black 

For their candidate to stand on. 
Chorus, &c. 

Young Iowa, far in the West, 

Has fired the signal gun, 
She met the foe, and laid him low 

Her work was bravely done. 
Chorus, &c. 

Hark ! a voice rings out from Vermont's hills, 

And sounds far o'er the plain, 
" We've rolled our twenty thousand up, 
Now, do ye likewise, Maine." 
Chorus, &c. 



They've done their work in the Pine Tree State P 

The ruffians strove in vain, 
They're beat in spite of all their boast, 

And Hamlin governs Maine. 
Chorus. 

The Jersey boys are wide awake, 

Their work will be well done, 
And Stockton cannot get that State, 

With his money, or big gun ! 

Chorus. 

When Pennsylvania's turn shall come, 

The friends of Freedom there, 
Will give her vote to John Fremont, 

And make Buchanan stare. 
Chorus. 

And in our own good native State, 

Where freemen can't be sold, 
We'll show the friends of Buck and Fill, 

We spurn their bribe of gold. 

Chorus. 

And in the gallant Empire State, 

We'll run them, neck and neck, 
We'll beat the friends of Fillmore there 5 

As well as Buck and Breck. 

Chorus. 

The ruffians all, both great and small, 

Have had their ipse dixit, 
They can't come in, ain't it a sin ? 

Not no how they can fix it. 

Chorus. > 

And having thus, disposed of all, 

From Beersheba to Dan 
The people's voice has made its choice, 

And John Fremont's the man. 

Chorus. 



7 

CAMPAIGN SONG. 
Am. " Villikins and Ms Dinah." 

As Buchanan was walking by the White House, one day, 
His eyes did roll upwards, and thus he did say, 
"I'm looking for lodgings, and this is the thing, 
So I guess I will take it quite early next spring." 

Singing, to la la la ral la to ral la la. 

Then bowing quite ]ow to the people around, 
He called them the bravest he ever had found ; 
The South was his darling, the North was his pride ; 
And, in speaking of Kansas, he tenderly sighed 
Singing, to la, &c. 

'Twas thus he was talking sweet things to the crowd, 
When the voice of the people rose up clear and loud : 
"Here comes JOHN and JESSIE, so clear out the way, 
'Tis too late in the season for you to make hay/' 
Singing, to la, &c. 

"We go for Free Kansas, Free Speech, and Free Press, 
Our whole rights as Freemen we mean to possess, 
We want no c old fogies ' their yoke to lay on, 
So clear out the way for our JESSIE and JOHN !" 
Singing, to la, &c. 

Then Buchanan with weeping looked round on the crowd, 
But, alas ! for his phelinks, they cried very loud : 
" Make way for brave FREMONT ! our hero, make way, 
You can row up Salt River for Ten Cents a Day." 
Singing, to la, &c. 

MORAL. 

Now all ye wire-pullers take warning by this, 
Ere dreaming of gaining political bliss, 
Don't knock at the White House, or Uncle Sam's Bin, 
Though a smart set of ruffians, you cannot come in. 
Singing, to la, &c. 



THE HERO WHO CONQUERED. 

Am " The Bright Rosy Morning." 

The hero who conquered, 

And never gave o'er, 
The man we have chosen 

For honors in store. 

Oh ! let us, let us now engage 
Round his banner to stand, 

And glory, and strength, boys, 
Shall fill all the land ! 

The day star is risen, 

The patriot is come, 
The mansion is ready, 

We welcome him home ! 

Then cheer up, cheer up, freemen all ! 

Lend a hand lend a hand, 
And glory, and strength, boys, 

Shall fill all the land ! 

We win for no despot, 

We fight not for hire, 
The birthright of freemen 

Is all we desire ! 

Then crowd up, crowd up to the deck, 
Let the ship be well manned, 

And glory, and strength, boys, 
Shall fill all the land. 



Am " Dearest Mae." 

Now, Freemen hear and mark me, sit down and I'll re 
late 

The treason that was uttered by a Doughface Candidate : 
He plumply says, before hand, that the South should not 

obey 

If FREMONT be the People's Choice on next November's 
day ! 
CHORUS 

Think, Freemen all ! these sentiments recall, 
When Fillmore tries to blind your eyes 

To the fact of Southern thrall ! 
In other words he says the South should " let the 

4 Union slide," 

The moment we no more agree to bow before its pride ; 
For years, and years, the North has borne the Slaver's 

sway alone 

" All this/' says Fillmore, " goes for naught, if once we 
ask our own !" 

CHORUS Think, Freemen all ! &c. 

'Tis he suggests the treason he claps them on the back, 
And swears ' c they must be mad or fools to take a dif 
ferent track !" 

The " will of the majority's" a good thing in its way, 
So long but not an inch beyond supporting Southern 
sway ! 
CHORUS Think, Freemen all ! &c. 

Its " heads we win and tails you lose" the game he'd 

have them play, 

If their man is elected, by all means, then obey ! 
But if he's not 'twere folly the issue to abide, 
So heads we win and tails you lose ! and " let the Union 

slide." 

CHORUS ; Think, Freemen all ! &c. 

Our bold Freemountain Eagle will tear the threat to 

shreds, 
And if they try the traitor's game their blood be on 

their heads ! 
cc 'Tis an awkward thing," said Webster, in his grand 

reply to Hayne, 
" This dying without touching earth " Let FILLMORE 

think again ! 

(JHORUS And think, Freemen all ! &c. 



10 
WE'RE FOR FREEDOM THROUGH THE LAND- 

AIR" Old Granite State." 

WE are coming, we are coming! freedom's battle is begun! 
No hand, shall furl her banner ere her victory be won! 
Our shields are locked for liberty, and mercy goes before: 
Tyrants tremble in your citadel ! oppression shall be o'er. 

We are all for Fremont, 
We are all for Dayton 
We are all for Liberty and Justice, 
, And for Freedom through the land. 

We have hatred, dark and deep, for the fetter and the 

thong ; 
We bring light for prisoned spirits, for the captive's wail 

a song ; 
We are coming, we are coming ! and ' ' No league with 

tyrant man," 
Is emblazoned on our banner, while our Fremont leads 

the van ! 

We are all for Fremont, &c. 

We are coming, we are coming ! but we wield no battle 

brand : 
We are armed with truth and justice, and our ballot's in 

our hand ; 
And our voice which swells for freedom freedom now 

and ever more 
Shall be heard as ocean's thunder, when they burst upon 

the shore ! 

We are all for Fremont, &c. 

We are coming, we are coming! not as comes the tempest's 

wrath, 

When the frown of desolation sits brooding o'er its path : 
But with mercy, such as leaves his holy signet-light upon 
The air in lambent beauty, when the darkening storm is 

gone. 

We are all for Fremont, &c. 



11 

AIR. " Camptoivn Races." 
Freemen all, hear Freedom's cry, 

Da da, du da, 
Let by-gones pass, and feuds gone by, 

Du da, du da, da. 
Forgotten be for ever more, 

Du da, du da, 
Join our chorus and encore, 

Du da, du da, da. 
Chorus.- We'll work from this to election, 

We're bound to have good luck, 
We '11 bet our money on the Woolly Horse, 

We're bound to beat old Buck. 
For Freedom's leader, brave Fremont, 

Du da, du da, 
Who ne'er was beat, 'tis not his wont, 

Du da, du da, da. 
Come Democrats of Jackson's school, 

Du da, du da, 
Aid us break this tyrant rule, 

Du da, du da, da. 

Chorus. We'll work from this to election, &c. 
Come gallant Whigs of forty-four, 

Du da, du da, 
Join our chorus and encore, 

Du da, du da, da. 
The People mean him he's the man, 

Du da, du da, 
Beat him, ruffians, if you can, 

Du da, du da, da. 
Uhorus. We'U work from this to election, &e. 

Chivalric South how much they fear, 

Du da, du da, 
The name, Fremont, we hold so dear, 

Du da, du da, da. 
A few are there who boldly speak, 

Du da, du da, 
Of him on Eocky Mountain's peak, 

Du da, du da, da. 
Chorus. We'll work from this to election, &c. 

His country's standard, there unfurled, 

Du da, du da, 

The stars so blessed by all the world, 

Du da, du da, da. 



12 

Reasons, plenty, we can relate, 

Du da, da da, 

Why he should fill the Chair of State, 

Du da, du da, da. 
Chorus. We'll work from this to election, &c. 

Dog meat, he prefers, they sing, 

Du da, du da, 
He'll eat up Buck before the spring, 

Du da, du da, da. 
Grasshopper pie, is his delight, 

Du da, du da, 
This at noon, mule meat at night, 

Du da, du da, da, 
Chorus. We'll work from this to election, &c. 

'Tis this same Buck who lied 'bout Clay, 

Du da, du da, 
He asks our votes, we tell him nay, 

Du da, du da, da. 
His Ostend Circular is plain, 

Du da, du da, 
'Means Cuba, stole for Southern gain, 

Du da, du da, da. 
Chorus. We'll work from this to election, &c. 

His promise made, in years gone by, 

Du da, du da, 
Is unredeemed, and time doth fly, 

Du da, du da, da. 
Then, hasten Buck, while life remains, 

Du da, du da, 
Purge Democratic blood from veins, 

Du da, du da, da. 
Chorus. We'll work from this to election, &c. 

Then join the chorus, as of old, 

Du da, du da$ 
For John Fremont the just and bold, 

Du da, du da, da. 
With the hurrah three times three, 

Du da, du da, 
Bless God, we yet have Liberty, 

Du da, du da, da, 

Chorus. We'll work from this to election, &c. 



13 

AIR. " Blow the Windy Morning." 

Awake, ye black Republicans, 

The time is near at hand, 
To choose another magistrate, 

This country to command. 

Chorus. Then clear away the ruffian band, 

Freemen will never yield, 
'Till John Fremont is in command, 
And Buck has left the field. 

They talk about the Woolly Horse, 

And at the story grin, 
That Woolly Horse is on the track, 

And he is bound to win. 
Chorus. Then clear away the ruffian band,"&c. 

They call our party sectional, 
Their reason we will mention, 

Because we won't give up our rights, 

To Slavery extension. 
Chorus. Then clear away the ruffian band', &c. 

When Jim Buchanan pledged himself 
The platform straight to tread, 

He sold himself for Southern votes, 

But at the North, he's dead. 
Chorus. Then clear away the ruffian band, &c. 

There's Fillmore, who has just got home 

From visiting the Pope, 
He only makes believe to run, 

He has'nt got a hope, 
Chorus. Then clear away the ruffian band, &c. 

Let John Fremont affairs control, 

With JESSIE by his side, 
Let Franklin Pierce, get in his hearse, 

And from the White House ride. 
Chorus. Then clear away the ruffian band, &c. 

The White House, once delivered, 

The Cabinet scattered, too, 
As they run out, the States will shout, 

God help the scaly crew. 
Chorus. Then clear away the ruffian band, &c. 



14 
FREMONT AND FREEDOM, 

AIR Did you never hear of the Farmer" 

ON to the rescue, Freemen bold 

A fearless band are we : 
We'll raise the song, and strike the chord 

That sounds for liberty. 

Chorus Ho ! Ho ! for Freedom, Free Debate, 

Free Labor and Fremont ! 
The ballot box shall save the State, 
And silence every taunt. 

O'er" high Nevada's snowy cliffs, 

Our crested eagles soar ; 
And on the Rocky Mountain sit, 

Or fly from shore to shore 

Chorus Ho ! Ho ! for Freedom, &c. 

Land of the brave, home of the free, 

Freedom thy aid implores ; 
Away, away with Slavery 

From these our peaceful shores 

Chorus Ho ! Ho ! for Freedom, &c. 

The time's at hand, the day is fixed, 

November fourth will show, 
This band of border ruffians 

From Washington must go. 

Chorus Ho ! Ho ! for Freedom, &c< 

Now Fremont, he is in the field, 
He's Freedom's long-tried friend, 

Let freemen rally 'round their chief, 
Whose fame shall never end. 

Chorus Ho ! Ho ! for Freedom, &c* 



15 
THE BAY STATE HURRAH. 

Am " Hurrah Song. 9 ' 

FREMONT'S the chief to lead the way, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
The fire by night the cloud by day, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
Mailed in truth and strong in hand. 
He'll bring us to the Promised Land. 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 

The Ship of State, with tattered sail, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
Is madly driving 'fore the gale, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
He'll soon repair her crippled form, 
And bring her safely through the storm, 

Hurrah ! &c. 

The sable flag that o'er her waves, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
Shall float no longer over slaves, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
And not forgetting Buck and Breck, 
He'll sweep the pirates from her deck. 

Hurrah ! &c. 

But Freedom's stars and stripes shall wave, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
Above the foe and o'er the brave, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
From Kansas' dark and bloody ground, 
To California's farthest bound. 

Hurrah ! &c. 

Free Speech, Fremont, will aye defend, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
And Slavery's curse he'll ne'er extend, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 



16 

He goes for Freedom's holy cause, 
For equal rights, and equal laws. 
Hurrah ! &c. 

And Kansas, too, shall have her due, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
He'll save her from the ruffian crew, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
In spite of Douglas and his pack, 
He'll turn the tide of conquest back. 

Hurrah ! &c. 

Then let us all, with loud acclaim, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
Repeat the chorus with a name, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
A name at which the tyrant quails, 
A name which every good man hails, 

Fremont, Fremont, Fremont, Fremont ! 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 

Then rally, Freemen, for the fight, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
The arm of God is for the right, 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 
The right he'll own, and bless the hand 
That strikes for Freedom through the land. 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 

Fremont ! Fremont ! Fremont ! 



IT 
DOUGLAS'S LAMENT [OVER THE LEFT.] 

AIR " Susanna." 

As I walked out the other night, 

When all around was still, 
I met a team called " Buck and Break," 

A jogging down the hill ; 
Steve Douglas sat behind and drove, 

A twinkle in his eye, 
And sotto voce, thus he sang, 

" Old Buck, you'd better cry ; 
Chorus Oh, Buchanan, 

You need n't cry for me^ 
You'll need your salt drops for yourself, 

You'll see what you will see." 

" My platform swallowed you entire, 

Your body, breeches, boots, 
But ' that's' no sort of consequence,' 

As 'twas with Mr. Toots ;" 
The South don't more than half trust you, 

The North your name will scout, 
And like your Osfcend Circular, 

You're bound to fizzle out ! 
Chorus. Oh, Buchanan, 

I told you how 'twould be, 
You'll break your neck, both Buck and Breck^ 

And leave the track for me." 

'" That drop of Democratic blood, 

You squeezed out of your veins, 
Will hardly pay ' ten cents a day ; ' 

And ' gutta percha canes' 
Won't help to drive you round the course^ 

Your Southern wind's unsound ; 
I'll bet a * dime' the ' Mustang* horse 

Will run you ' to the ground !' 



18 

Chorus. Oh, Buchanan, 

You will be blown sky high ; 
I'm going down to see the fun, 

But 'taint for me to cry." 



" Tis time you fogies were killed off, 

'Tis time that General Pierce 
Should pack his ' duds' and fix himself 3 

To walk behind your hearse ! 
You scape goats carrying off my sins, 

'G'lang' you travel slow ; 
But never mind, you're headed right, 

You're going down below ! 
Chorus. Oh, Buchanan, 

You need't cry for me, 
Oh, don't you wish you had a wife, 

Like John Fremont -and me ! " 

Thus Douglas to himself did sing, 

Thinks I, you have told more 
Of sober truth, than you have spoke 

In twenty years before ! 
Fremont will be our President, 

Fremont, the brave and bold, 
Old Breck, and you, and all your crew, 

Will just be laid out cold ! 
Chorus. Oh, Buchanan, 

You'd better cry, you see, 
FREMONT WILL BE THE PRESIDENT, 

AND KANSAS WILL BE FREE. 



19 
OUR GALLANT LEADER. 

Am. " Blue Bells of Scotland. 1 ' 
Oh ! whom, tell me whom, do you follow to the field ? 
Oh ! whom, tell me whom, do you follow to the field? 
We follow young Fremont, the brave, who ne'er was 

known to yield, 
With Freedom and Humanity inscribed upon his shield. 

With whom, tell me whom, do you battle in the strife ? 
With whom, tell me whom, do you battle in the strife ? 
We battle with the ruffians who wield the scalping knife, 
With their hands dripping blood from a Northern free 
man's life. 

By whom, tell me whom, were these outrages begun ? 
By whom, tell me whom, were these outrages begun ? 
By traitor Arnold Douglas, Toombs, Pierce and Atchin- 

son, 
Southern lords and Northern traitors, in their haunts at 

Washington. 

For whom, tell me whom, were these daring projects 

planned ? 
For whom, tell me whom, were these daring projects 

planned ? 
For your Keifets and bully Brookses, who expect to rule 

the land, 
With their white and their black slaves alike, beneath 

their hand. 

On whom, tell me whom, was the blow designed to fall ? 
On whom, tell me whom, was the blow designed to fall ? 
On you and I, my brother, and upon those freemen all, 
Who refuse to turn doughfaces, and to follow at their call. 

By whom, tell me whom, is this policy pursued? 
By whom, tell me whom, is this policy pursued ? 
By James Buchanan, and by all the office-holding brood, 
On the Cincinnati Platform," with its stained and rotten 
wood. 

Oh ! whom, tell me whom, shall we trust to lead us on? 
Oh ! whom, tell me whom, shall we trust to lead us on? 
JOHN C. FREMONT'S the man, my boys ! the field's 

already won, 
By the name and the fame of our second WASHINGTON. 



20 



MAINE THUNDER. 

AIR. " Pop goes the Weazel" 
Old Jimmy, awaiting the news from Maine, 

Was lost in anxious wonder, 
When all at once, to his surprise, 

Boom ! goes the Thunder ! 

Oh ! dear, what terrible sound is that 

Which rends the air asunder, 
A storm is brewing, I greatly dread, 

Boom ! goes the Thunder ! 

A Northeast storm, as I'm alive, 

It 's roaring over yonder, 
A Northeast storm, with lightning, too, 

Boom ! goes the Thunder ! 

If Hannibal Hamlin 's governor now, 

We might as well knock under, 
There's no more luck for poor old Buck, 

Boom ! goes the Thunder ! 

Charles Gordon Greene, 'tis plain to be seen, 
Has made a terrible blunder, , 

They've taken his gold, but we've been sold, 
Boom ! goes the Thunder ! 

I am used up, as sure as a gun, 

I get no more of plunder, 
I wish I'd remained, at the court of St. James, 

Boom ! goes the Thunder ! 



21 



FREMONT'S DREAM. 

Am " Susannah." 
I had a dream the other night, 

When everything was still ; 
I dream' d I saw Buchanan 

A rolling down the hill, 
A farewell speech was in his mouth, 

A tear was in his eye, 
Said I, "Old Buck, you're too far south, 

Buchanan don't you cry." 

CHORUS Oh, Buchanan ! 

Don't you cry for me ; 
I'm bound unto the White House, 

As you will shortly see. 

Said he " Dear John, speak not so, 

It grieves my heart full sore, 
You know my party it is sham, 

And I am Buck no more." 
" You know my name is changed, 'tis true, 

And I'm a worthless hack ; ''' 
With a woful look, he thus did say, 

The " mustang " s' on my track. 
CHORUS Oh, Buchanan ! &c. 

With tearful eyes, he said adieu, 

And burning was his brow, 
He said " dear John, take my farewell, 

I am a platform now." 
He sent his love to all his friends, 

And weeping, he did say 
Farewell unto the White House, 

And thus he passed away. 
Oh, Buchanan ! &c. 



22 

BABY WAKERS. 

TUNE. "Lullaby" 

Jimmy, in his chamber dreary, 

Busy darning up his hose, 
Heard afar those echoes cheery, 

W hich from gallant Maine arose. 
Chorus. 

ec Oh ! those dreadful baby wakers, 
How they fill my soul with fear, 
I begin to hear the breakers, 
Our old craft is drifting near. 

First Iowa democratic, 

Always true as steel before, 
Shakes the house from ground to attic, 

With its unexpected roar. 
Chorus. 

Then Vermont I thought 'twas thunder, 
That I heard among the hills. 

But my friends revealed the blunder, 

By the whiteness of their gills. 
Chorus. 

I expected to be beaten, 

On that old Green Mountain height, 
But had not dreamed of being eaten 

Horns and all, clean out of sight. 
Chorus. 

Choate, 'twas said, would surely quiz 'em, 

And would do the old Whigs brown, 
But I find somnambulism 



Is an cc ism " won't go down. 



Chorus. 



Now, as I sit here despairing, 
And bewailing my sad fate, 



23 

Through the lofty forests tearing 

Echoes loud the Pine Tree State. 
Chorus. 

Thou, too, Maine, my heart's best treasure, 
Loved as cat ne'er loved a mouse, 

Gold we sent you without measure, 
From the Boston Custom House. 
Chorus. 

Now you've been and gone and done it, 

Vast majorities you've piled, 
But, if really bent upon it, 

Why not, Maine, have "drawn it mild ?" 

Chorus. 

Sad and lonely sit I grieving, 

All my fondest hopes have flown, 
Party rats my ship are leaving^ 

'Cause they see 'tis going down." 
Chorus. 



KALLYING SONG. 

AIR. " Bruce. 7 s Address.'* 

Onward ! onward ! to the fight ! 
Buchanan's hosts we'll put to flight ; 
We'll plant the tree of truth and right 
On soil that shall be free. 

Let freedom's banner be unfurled ; 
Let it wave throughout the world, 
The might of Slavery downward hurled, 
And western Kansas free ! 



24 

Fremont will lift our standard high, 
Let Fillmoreites before it fly ; 
And Slavery's cohorts droop and die, 
On soil that must be free. 

" Fremont and Dayton" is our song, 
From hill to hill the notes prolong, 
Through all the air, an echo strong 
Fremont and victory ! 

Fremont Fremont, and Dayton, too, 
Our candidates- and they will do 

To whip the Buck and Fillmore crew, 
And keep our borders free. 

Then buckle on your armor bright ; 

Stand to your arms in valiant fight ; 
Fremont, the noble and the right, 

Will lead to victory. 

Hark ! victory rings o'er hill and plain, 
From Iowa to eastern Maine, 
And Vermont answers back again, 
Let east and west be free ! 

Loud shout in this victorious hour, 
For Buck and Breck have lost their power ; 
The Fillmore crew -see how they cower, 
Before the brave and free ! 

Forward, ye brave men, to the front* 
No coward fears our heart shall daunt ! 
Be this our war-cry, for " Fremont, 
Free Speech, and Victory !" 



Am. "Braes o' Balquither." 

Let us sing, brothers, sing, 

With our flag waving o'er us, 
Make the glad echoes ring, 

For there's glory before us. 
On the mountains afar 

We behold its bright beaming, 
It gleams like a star; 

We're awake, we're not dreaming. 

Let us singj &c. 



A chieftain we own, 

Nobly worthy our rally ; 
Wise and brave he is known, 

On hill, stream, lake and valley. 
We know of -our land, 

Every mountain and river, 
And he means all free land, 

Shall be free land forever. 

Let us sing, &c. 

In a Rocky Mountain hut, 

Was our chief when we found him; 
In a palace we'll set him 

With his dear ones around him. 
For his name lights the land, 

Lights the hill, lake and river, 
Like a mount let it stand, 

Glory gilded forever. 

Let us sing, &c, 

For the hero three cheers, 

Loud as storm's loudest rattle > 
For his Jessie, three more, 

Then on to the battle. 
We shall never be beat, 

To contend we'll cease never 
For our cry is Free Land 

Shall be Free Land forever. 

Let us sing, &c. 



26 

EXPRESS SONG. 
AIR. A little more Cider* 

Erastns Brooks, of the Express, 

Is really nominated 
For Governor of New York State ; 

Oh ! isn't he elated ? 
He'll swell and strut and strut and swell, 

And cut up many a caper, 
And lots of monstrous dirty stuff, 

Will publish in his paper, 

Chorus. And a little more lying, too, 
And a little more lying, too, 
A little more lying he'll be trying, 
A little more lying, too. 

For this he's struggled long and hard, 

And done all sorts of evil : 
He's sold his body to the south, 

His soul unto the d 1. 

lago honest, was a trump, 

But could'nt hold a candle 
To honest 'Hast of the Express, 

In dealing out the scandal. 

Chorus. And a little more lying, too, &c. 

Fremont's religion much concerns, 

Our politician pious ; 
He fears he is a catholic, 

Does modern Ananias ; 
And in the face and eyes of all 

The plainest contradictions, 
His brazen sheet reiterates 

The Cook & Fulmer fictions. 

Chorus. With a little more lying, too, &c. 

He knows he lied within his throat, 

When first he penned the slander, 
But that old vacant squirrel hole, 

It riz dog Noble's dander. 
Although he knows there's not a man 

Believes him for a minute, 
As long as there's an empty hole, 

He'll keep a barking in it. 

Chorus. Aud a little more lying, too, &c. 



While we dislike religious tests, 

The story's getting common, 
That our Erastus Brooks himself 

Is secretly a Mormon ! 
That he's one hundred wives at least, 

Kept in seclusion quiet, 
That Brigham Young pronounced the banns, 

If false, let Brook's deny it. 

('horns : -With a little more lying, too, &c. 



POOR OLD BUCK. 
AIR. Uncle Ned. 

There is an old donkey, a worn out old jack, 

Too old to live very long, 
He has no bone in the middle of his back, 

Where his bones ought to grow very strong, 

Chorus.?- Then let down the bars very low, 
And drive out the poor old Joe; 

There's no more work for poor old Buck, 
Let him go where the old nags go. 

His legs are long when he trots after votes, 
But he has no eyes for to see ; 

And his teeth are worn out eating public oats, 
So he'll have to let the public oats be, 

Chorus. Then let down the bars very low, &c. 

He always pulls wrong, with a very hard jerk, 
Which gives to the driver much trouble; 

He's not at all fit for our kind of work 
For he's never yet learned to go double. 

Chorus. Then let down the bars very low, c. 

What's the use of a nag with so many bad ways, 

So stubborn, so old and so slow ? 
The best we can do is to turn him out to grass, 

In the fields where the short grasses grow. 

Chorus. Then let down the bars very low, o. 



28 

THE KINDEEHOGK FOX TO THE WHEATLAND 

BUCK. 

Am" Wait for the Wagon." 

Will you come with me, my Jimmy dear, your passage 

shall be free, 

Where Salt River runs the fastest, come along with me; 
My cabbages are all on board, my boat's upon the tide, 
And early in November we'll all take the ride. 
Chorus. Wait till November, wait till November, 

Wait till November, and we'll all take a ride. 

'Tis sixteen years ago, this fall, since first I took the sail, 
And if the wind holds where it is, you'll have as fair a gale. 
You'll find it rather lonesome there, when first you find 

you're pinned, 
But soon like this old fox, you will get used to being 

skinned. 
Chorus. Wait till November, &c. 

In '40 when I took the trip, at Harrison's expense, 

1 should have staid put, if I'd had the smallest grain of 

sense ; 
But trying, by my John's advice, to guide the ship of 

State, 
I was compelled to take the sail, -in eighteen forty-eight. 

Chorus. Wait till November, &c. 

And when I heard they'd set up you, old Molly Coddle 

Bach, 

I told my John to turn about, cut stick and gravel scratch; 
And when he said, that on the goose they'd got you 

right and tight, 
At once replied I, " demme John, that goose's a cock 

won't fight." 
Chorus. Wait till November, &c. 

But that likely lot of niggers, that John is going to wed, 
And love, and honor, and obey, completely turned my 

head ; 

And now I've taken you in tow, I find I'm going back, 
A second flying Dutchman, upon the same old track. 
Chorus. Wait till November, &c. 



29 

I think you'd better strike your flag, although it is sub 
lime, 

And I've heard them say there was a man all in the 
olden time, 

Who had precisely such a flag unto his mizzen nailed, 

" And his name was Captain Kyd, as he sailed as he 

sailed." 
Chorus. Wait till November, &c. 

You'll find the trip a long one, they will not let you stop, 
But keep up the excursion till they've rowed you to the 

top ; 
Then come along, my Jimmy, to Salt River's farthest 

town, 
And there be snugly packed away, a Buck well salted 

down. 
Chorus. Wait till November, &c. 



OLD JAMMIE BUCK, MY JO, 

AIR John Anderson, my Jo. 

Auld Jamie Buck, my Jo, Jem, 

When we were first acquaint ; 
Ye were a blue-light Federalist, 

Of most unsavory taint ; 
But now ye are a Democrat ' 

At least ye tell us so 
Forgi'e me, but it winna do, 

Auld Jamie Buck, my Jo. 

Auld Buck, ye once protested 

That if within a vein, 
A drop of Democratic blood 

Your carcass should profane, 
Ye'd tap it like a cask of ale, 

And let it out, you know ; 
But syne ye croon anither tune, 

Auld Jamie Buck, my Jo. 

And weel I mind the time, Jem, 

When ye were wont to say 
That puir folk should be satisfied 

To win ten cents a day; 



And now the puir man's vote, Jem, 

Ye're speerin for, I trow ; 
But, troth, I think ye'll wait a wee, 

Auld Jamie Buck, my Jo. 

Auld Buck, ye doug-faced noodle, 

We ken a lad or twa 
Wha'll by the Constitution stand, 

The Union and the Law ; 
Fremont and Dayton are the chiels 

For whom we mean to go ; 
And you may bide at home the whiles, 

Auld Jamie Buck, my Jo. 



RALLYING SONG. 

TUNE Cfc Marseillaies Hymn" 

Behold ! the furious storm is rolling, 

Which Border-Fiericls, confederates, raise, 
The Dogs of War, let loose, are howling, 

And lo ! our infant cities blaze. 
And shall we calmly view the ruin, 

While lawless force with giant stride, 

Spreads desolation far and wide. 
In guiltless blood his hands imbruing ? 

Arise, arise, ye brave ! 

And let our war-cry be 

Free Speech, Free Press, Free Soil, Free Men, 
FRE-MONT and VICTORY ! 

Oh, Liberty ! can he resign thee 

Who once has felt thy generous flame ? 

Can threats subdue, or bolts confine thee 
Or whips thy noble spirit tame ? 

No ! by the heavens bright bending o'er us ! 
We've called our captain to the van 
Behold the hour behold the man ! 

Oh, wise and valiant, go before us ! 
Then let the shout again 
Ring out from sea to sea, 

Free Speech, Free Press, Free Soil, Free Men, 
FRE-MONT and VICTORY ! 



il 

Hurrah, hurrah, from hill and valley, > 
Hurrah from prairie wild and free ! 

Around onr glorious Chieftian rally, 
For KANZAS and for LIBERTY ! 

Let him who first her wilds exploring, 
Her virgin beauty gave to fame, 
Now save her from the curse and shame 

Which Slavery o'er her soil is pouring. 
Our Standard Bearer, then, 
The brave Pathfinder be ! 

Free Speech, Free Press, Free Soil, Free Men> 
FIIE-MONT and VICTORY ! 



From the Providence Journal. 

FREMONT IS THE NAME, 

AIR " Bob and Joan.' 7 
Alas ! for poor old Buck, 

He has no chance of winning, 
Every day's bad luck 

Is worse than the beginning. 
He's lost the power of speech, 
Yet still a wondrous wizzard, 
He's swallowed up himself 
His backbone and his gizzard. 
FREMONT is the name 

Shall shine in song and story $ 
We choose him for our chief 
To lead us on to glory. 

The southron's plighted faith, 

The doughface pledges given, 
Are records of that place 

The opposite of heaven. 
The political sin 

Of Pierce, and Brooks, and Shannon, 
Just like a glass of gin, 

Are swallowed by Buchanan. 
Fremont is the name, &c. 

No prose of Rufus Choate, 

Nor Democratic stanzas, 
No parapraphs rub out 

The history of Kanzas. 
The people know their men, 

And choose their own true leader, 



82 

No political hack, 
No Union seceder. 

Fremont is the name, &c> 

The man who loves his race, 

And loving he shall lead 'em> 
He ope'd the golden gate, 

Of California's freedom. 
And Kansas soon shall feel 

The power of his protection, 
For freemen everywhere 

Are bent on his election. 

Fremont is the name, &c. 

Then let the trumpet sound, 

Loud roar the thundering cannon,- 
The triumph of Fremont, 

The downfall of Buchanan. 
Let merry peals ring forth 

From every tower and steeple. 
And East, West, North and South, 

Be one united people. 
Fremont is the name 



AIR " Fra Diavolo." 
Upon the Rocky Mountain 
That firm and mighty heart, behold 
Fast his country's flag he holds, 
The glorious flag of old. 
This way his steps inclining, 
His fame has reached us long ago, 
He conquered gold for freemen then s 
Now fights he a freeman's foe 

Tremble. 

Even now the storm is rolling, 
Afar hear echo calling 

To White House, 

To White House, 

To White House. 
Even now the storm is rolling, 
Afar hear echo calling, 

To White House, 

To White House, 

To White House. 



33 

UNCLE SAM'S BOSS FARMER. 
TUNE. " Old Dog Tray." 

Says Uncle Sam to me, 

I'm in a quandary, 
I want a good boss to manage my affairs. 

Says I to Uncle Sam, 

I know the very man 
Who'll quietly put an end to your cares. 

JOHN C. FREMONT is the man, sir, 

He'll soon quiet your alarm, 
He's faithful and he's true, 
And you'll never, never rue 

The day you make him boss of your farm. 

Says he, the man I've got 

Was never worth a jot 
To be fit for the place he never did begin, 

He's kicked up such a row, 

And to stop it don't know how, 
That he's turned out worse than he came in, 

(Says I,) John C. Fremont is the man, sir, &c. &c. 

Says he, there's Platform Jeems, 

But he's not himself it seems, 
He says he is a plank, and nothing else, you know 

I want no wooden man, 

They're only useful when 
You (k)need a batch of soft northern dough. 

(Says I,) John C. Fremont is the man, sir. &c. &c. 

Says he, there's one I tried 

When good old Taylor died, 
But he made a saucy speech the other day, you know, 

And I mean to have my way, 

And 1 mean to have my say, 
And I tell him all his threats are " no go." 

(Says I,) John C Fremont is the man, sir, &c. &c. 

5 



34 

Says he, I think so tod, 

And I will put him through, 
He's got the true grit, and is a faithful guide, 

He'll make my people hoe, 

Each his particular row, 
And he'll stop this crowding on to t'other side. 

Yes, JOHN C. FREMONT is the man, sir, 

He'll soon quiet my alarm, 
He's faithful and he's true, 
And he'll never, never rue 

The day I make him boss of my farm. 



THERE IS THE WHITE HOUSE YONDER. 

AIR, A few days. 

(By permission of S. T. Gordon, New- York, Publisher of the Music.) 

A song I've got, my friends, for you, 

Few days, few days ; 
The tone and style will please you, too, 

For we're going home. 
Fremont and freedom is our word, 

Few days, few days ; 
We've nailed our flag and drawn our sword, 

For we're going home. 

Chorus. For there's the White House yonder, 

Few days, few days, 
Fremont and Dayton's bound there ; 

We're going home ; 
We can't be kept back longer, 

Few days, few days, 
Every day we're growing stronger, 

We're going home. 



35 

Old ten cent Jimmy is no go ! 

Few days, few days, 
And Breckenridge is far too slow, 

We're going home ; 
They both endorse weak Pierce's reign, 

Few days, few days, 
Which on our country leaves a stain ; 

We're going home. 
Chorus. 

Old Benton says he's out for Buck, 

Few days, few days, 
But his finger on his nose is stuck ; 

We're going home. 
Fremont's the man, he surely knows, 

Few days, few days, 
Or if he don't his daughter does, 

We're going home. 
Chorus. 

Old Bachelors are low in rate, 

Few days, few days, 
They'd never populate a State, 

We're going home. 
The White House party's must not drag, 

Few days, few days, 
And what could Bucks be but a stag, 

We're going home. 
Chorus. 

Tho' Fremont, he was born down thar, 

Few days, few days, 
He's strong as his Rocky Mountain Bar ; (bear) 

We're going home. 
He's made our California State 

Few days, few dayp, 
It's made us rich -we'll make him great, 

We're going home. 
Chorus. 



36 

And now, my friends, we vote a health, 

Few days, few days, 
To our first choice the nation's wealth, 

We're going home ; 
Freedom and Fremont is the word, 

Few days, few days, 
We've nailed our flag and drawn our sword, 

We're going home. 

Chorus. 



SAD VOYAGE. 

AIR. "Ok, Susanna" 

I dream't a dream the other night, 

A doughface's blood 'twould stop ; 
I dream't I saw old " Buck and Breck," 

Salt river rowing up, 
While Bully Brooks cried from the shore, 

" Buchanan don't you cry, 
We won't be ruled by John Fremont : 

We're goin' to nullify." 

" Oh, Buchanan, 

You need'nt cry for me, 
For when salt river you've rowed up, 

I'm going out to sea. 

" I'm goin' to march to Washington 

With forty thousand men, 
I'm goin' to seize the treasury ; 

What will the North do then t 



37 

The South shall have a President 

One of her own you'll see ; 
I'm sure I am a modest man, 

But pray ! Who will he be ?" 

" Oh, Buchanan," &c. 

Poor " Buck " will have good company 

On his melancholy row, 
For the front seat of the boat's reserved 

For Mi-lord Fill, you know. 
How sad they'll feel as they row up, 

And how they'll heave a sigh, 
When they think of Fremont's victory, 

And hear the Bully" cry. 

" Oh, Buchanan," &c. 

As pants the hart for cooling streams, 

When heated in the chase ; 
So pants the Buck for the White House, 

And presidential place. 
And 'tis too bad, that poor old Buck 

Will have to hear, at last, 
The ruffian Brooks call from the bank, 

As he goes rowing past 

" Oh, Buchanan," c. 

Then, when Thanksgiving week comes round, 

And 'lection day is o'er, 
T'will be our duty to give thanks 

For one great blessing more ; 
For as we pass the turkey round, 

And eat the pumpkin pies, 
Poor Buck is sadly rowing up, 

While Bully Preston cries 

" Oh, Buchanan," &c. 



38 

THE DOUGH FACE. 

AIR. The Cork Leg. 

A curious story 111 relate, 

Concerning a gentleman very sedate, 

Who, by one of those whimsical freaks of fate, 

Awoke one morning and found himself great. 

Ee too-ral, loo-ral, loo-ral, loo-ral, li, 

Too-ral, loo-ral, loo-ral, la. 

Old Zachary Taylor, the people did choose, 
Whose opinions exactly agreed with their views ; 
But brave Eough and Ready, by death they did loose. 
And the lucky old fellow stepped into his shoes. 
Ee too-ral, loo-lal, &c. 

So he moved himself to the great White House, 
And tucked himself up as snug as a mouse, 
Till Franklin Pierce his glim did douse, 
Cutting off his supply of public souse. 
Ee too-ral, loo-ral, &c. 

Then he said to himself, 'tis my best plan 
To travel about as much as I can, 
And let the dear people my countenance scan, 
For I'm really a handsome and wonderful man. 
Ee too-ral, loo-ral, &c. 

I think that the South is the place to begin, 
It plays at a game where you lose or I win, 
And then Slavery is a most horrible sin, 
The North, simple creature, is bound to cave in. 
Ee too-ral, loo-ral, &c. 

And so he adopted this excellent trick, 
And the toadies unto him did constantly stick, 
And bowing and scraping, our stunning old brick 
Said, ' thank you dear people, pray spread it on thick.' 
Ee too-ral, loo-ral, &c. 



39 

And so lie went on, till he'd finished his round 
Had laid out his corns and measured his ground 
And the head politicians he firmly had bound, 
To follow and swallow his wisdom profound. 
Ee too-ral, loo-ral, &c. 

Now I'll tickle New York, said our cunning old coon, 
A word to the wise was sufficient, and soon 
The New Yorkers adopted the very same tune, 
And exhibited Millard at Niblo's saloon. 
Ee too-ral, loo-ral, &c. 

Now, said he, the Whig party has gone to the dogs, 
But the Know Nothing team right merrily jogs, 
I think that I will, e're I'm lost in the fogs, 
Undergo dark-lantern baptism by Scroggs. 
Re too-ral, loo-ral, &:c. 

Then fearing to answer, ah, yes or no, 
Said he to himself, I to Europe will go, 
And there my magnificent figure I'll show, 
Shake hands with the Queen, and kiss the Pope's toe. 
Ee too-ral, loo-ral, &c. 

So thither he went, and travelled about, 
And had a good time, I have'nt a doubt, 
For he praised all the tyrants, who liberty flout, 
And then, at the end, returned with the gout. 
Ee too-ral, loo-ral, ^c. 

The first thing he did, when he came o'er the seas, 
And landed on shore, was to drop on his knees, 
And say, now elect me your President, please, 
You know I have taken all of the degrees. 
Ee too-ral loo-ral, &c. 

To his home, in the west of New- York, then he goes. 
And a horrible plot began to disclose, 



40 

That unless we elected him over his foes, 
The South would assuredly bite off its nose. 
Re too-ral, loo-ral, &c. 

And a self called convention of Whigs, now has said, 
Though he quitted the party which gave him his bread, 
That we must submit by him to be lead [dead. 

With the slave preaching boaster, who slanders the 
Re too-ral, loo-ral, &c. 

But the drivers may threaten and coax as they may, 
They'll probably find, when it comes 'lection day, 
That in spite of all they can do, or can say, 
The whole of the team heads the opposite way. 
Re too-ral, loo-ral, Sec. 



NORTHERN CHIVALRY. 
TUNE. " Dandy Jim" " JohnHighlandman" 

Come " Buck " and " Breck," and list to me. 
I sing of Northern chivalry, 
Not made of gutta percha canes, 
But iron hands and fertile brains. 

Fremont shall lead a glorious band 
Of freemen, to enrich free land, 
Make Kansas like a garden shine 
With milk and honey, corn and wine. 

I sing the men who rear the mill, 
Make streams subservient to their will, 
The earth her hidden mines disclose, 
And deserts bloom like the rose. 

Fremont will lead a glorious band, &c. 



41 

The man who works with honest toil, 
To win his tribute from the soil, 
More honor from his country craves, 
Than he who drives a thousand slaves. 

Fremont will lead a glorious band, &c. 

The man, the mind, the soil, all free, 
This is the chivalry /or me, 
No suppliant slaves to tend my beck, 
No rulers such as " Buck " and " Brech" 

Fremont will lead a glorious band, &c. 

No clanking chains, no cutting whip, 
No thongs with human gore to drip, 
Free bread, free labor ; man and child, 
From taint of Slavery undefiled. 

Fremont will lead a glorious band, &c. 

Free schools, free thought, free speech, free press, 
Free schools, free States and nothing less 
To Do or Die for LIBERTY, 
This, this is Northern chivalry. 

Fremont will lead a glorious band, ^c. 



THE LITTLE MEN AT WASHINGTON. 

Written by a Member of the Plainfield Fremont Club. 

AIR. " Have you seen Sam f 
I've just been out to Washington, 

To see our Congressmen, 
And see what changes have occurred 

Betwixt times now and then : 
I saw with much amazement 

That great men scarce had grown ; 
The Clays and Websters vanished had, 

Who once in Senate shone. 

5 



42 

Chorus O, why is this O, why is this 1 

The thought seems really shocking ; 
O, why are all the " little men " 
To Washington a flocking ? 

There's Mr. Bright, who's not so bright 

But on him you can look 
And sure I am, for no great man 

Will he ever be mistook. 
There's Mr. Wright, who's never right ; 

And Thompsons there are two ; 
And for a clown there's Mr. Brown 

And also Mr. Pugh. 
Chorus 

There's General Rusk, and Iowa Jones, 

And Jones of Tennessee ; 
Hunter, who growls ; Mason, who scowls ; 

And smaller men than he. 
Such smallish names as Allen and James, 

To' mention will hardly pay ; 
And Henry Dodge, whom the people will dodge 

On the very next 'lection day. 

Chorus 

There's Weller, who couldn't well be worse ; 

And Douglass, surnamed Stephen ; 
And Brodhead narrow minded is ; 

But Bigler's narrower, even. 
Then there are Stuart, Pratt and Pearce, 

Tombs, Reid, and Biggs, and Geyer ; 
And though the men are very small, 

The list is large, I fear. 
Chorus 

An awful ass is General Cass, 

Thick headed, fat and drowsy, 
But a bigger ass, and meaner, too, 

Is sneaking Isaac Toucey. 



43 

For office and pelf he sold himself, 
And wronged his noble State ; 

To get his pay, a long, long day 
The rascal will have to wait, 
Chorus 

O, what a raft of little men 

Have got together there ; 
It really makes me feel ashamed, 

It does, I do declare ! 
I thought I'd seen a sandy spot, 

Where small potatoes grew ; 
But Washington has surely got 

The smallest I ever knew ! 
Chorus 

I left the Senate Chamber now, 

And to the White House went, 
To see the man that's living there,- 

The man the people sent. 
Is that him, sitting in the chair 1 

Is that Frank Pierce I see 1 
If Senators are little men, 

O, ginger ! what is he ? 
Chorus 



MAINE NEWS ! !" 

OjR. 

WRECK OF THE SHIP "BUCK AND BRECK." 
(Written by a Member of the Plainfield Fremont Club.) 

AIR. "Susanna*" 

As I went out the other morn, to take some morning 
views, 

I heard a fellow crying out " Have you heard the won 
drous news T' 



44 

He stood bareheaded in the sun, he swung his hat and 

cane, 
And screamed aloud with all his might, " Have you 

heard the news from Maine V 9 

Chorus. O, old fogies, come listen once again, 

And I will tell the pleasant news, the glorious 
news from Maine. 

There gathered round a jolly crowd, their mouths wide 

open stood, 
And each despatch he read aloud, and all pronounced 

them good ; 
The first was written thus, my boys : " Fremont is on 

the gain, 
The pine tree State is all aglow, hurrah, hurrah for 

Maine !" 

Chorus. 



Despatches then came thick and fast, our ears all heard 

with wonder, 
We all exclaimed, " this can be naught but the genuine 

thunder ;" 
And still they came, " the wind blows hard, the storm 

it still increases ; 
The slavo-Demo-cratic hulk has struck and gone to 

pieces." 

Chorus. 

Sam Wells astride a rotten plank, is drifting out to sea, 

And Farley, in the surf, exclaims " the devil will get 
me." 

Dave Bronson walking on the deck, at the first shock 
was floored 

Geo. Evans seized a jug of rum and rushed right over 
board. 

Chorus. 



45 

With frantic look and doleful voice, a man screamed 

" bring a boat !" 
But who it was they could not tell, unless 'twas Rufus 

Choate. 

But who it was, it matters not, the ship is all a wreck, 
Bnd all are lost that passage took upon the " Buck and 

Breck." 
Chorus. 



[From the New Bedford Mercury, J 

CAMPAIGN SONG. 
Am. " Low Back Car." 

When first we heard of our Fremont, 

It was on the mountain height ; 
He planted first the stars arid stripes 

Above the eagle's flight. 
A score of brave old pioneers, 

Grouped round were standing near ; 
But none were there 

Who could compare, 
With the gallant engineer, 

As he stood with the mountain ail- 
Blowing freshly around him there. 
With the hunter's wild cheer, 
Ringing startling and clear, 
Their Chief in the mountain air 

When on the fields of Mexico, 

Our brave troops forced their way; 

In California wilds, Fremont 
Was foremost in the frav. 



46 

With his brave and trusty rifles, 
He stormed old Castro's seat, 
And never stopped for trifles, 
Till the foe was at his feet. 

And he sat in the Governor's chair, 

The same brave* pioneer ; 
' And. the flag which the war 

Had but brightened, waved o'er, 
As he sat in the Governor's chair. 

He vowed while there, no slavery curse 

Should stain that virgin strand ; 
And nobly he fulfilled the pledge, 

Throughout that golden land. 
And Jessie sat beside him, 

With her sweet smiles' winning raj, 
And said she'd rather work by far, 
Than yield to the slave power's sway. 
And they gave him the Senator's chair, 
Who had spirit and courage to dare 
For the rights of the free, 

Whate're the danger might be, 
At his post in the Senator's chair. 

And now the sons of Freedom throng, 

In phalanx strong and deep, 
To place their gallant leader where 

A freeman's pledge he'll keep. 
We'll place him in the White House, boys, 

Upon the 4th of March ; 
And Jessie shall sit beside him, 
With her smile so true and arch, 
As he sits in the President's chair, 

With Jessie the lovely and fair 
With Dayton and Jessie, 
His foes will non esse, 
As he sits in the President's chair. 



CONTENTS. 



A Candidate for Auction, Benny Havens, Oh, 4 

Bully Brooks Blue Tail Fly, 1 

Bay State Hurrah Hurrah Song, 15 

Baby Wakers Lullaby, 22 

Campaign Song Villikins and Dinah, 7 

Campaign Song Low Back Car, - 45 

Contrast, The A Wet Sheet and Flowing Sea, 3 

Dough Face, The Cor* Leg. 38 

Douglass Lament (over the left) Oh, Susannah, - 17 

Express Song A Little more Cider, 26 

Freemen all Camptown Races, - 11 

Fremont and Freedom Did you ever hear of the Farmer, J4 

Fremont's Dream Oh, Susannah, - 21 

Fremont is the Name Bob and Joan, 31 

Here's to you 5 

Hero who conquered, The Bright Rosy Morning, 8 

KinderhookFoxtoWheatlandBuck Wait for the Wagon, 28 

Little Men at Washington Have you seen Sam? 41 

Let us Sing Braes of Balguither, 25 

Maine Thunder Pop goes the Weasel, 20 

Maine News Oh, Susannah, - - 43 

Northern Chivalry Dandy Jim, - 40 

Now Freemen Dearest Mae, ... .9 

Oh, Fillmore Blair and I, - 2 

Our Gallant Leader Blue Bells oj Scotland, - 19 

Old Jamie Buck my Joe John A?iderson, 29 

Poor old Buck Uncle Ned, 27 

Rallying Song Marseilles Hymn, 30 

Rallying Song Bruce s Address 23 

Sad Voyage Oh, Susannah, 36 

There is the White House A Few Days, 34 

Upon the Rocky Mountain Fra Diavolo, ' 32 

Uncle Sam's Boss Farmer Old Dog Tray, 33 

We're for Freedom Old Granite State, 10 



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